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USHA SONGITA 

SONGS OF THE DAWN 



SRI. JOGESH CHANDER MISROW, M. A., Ph. D 

M 



With An Introduction by 
JULIAN B. ARNOLD 




<* 
%*>> 



Published and Copyrighted, 1 9 1 9 , by J. C. Misrow 
233 S. Ashland Blvd., Chicago, U. S. A. 

All Rights Reserved 



FEB 2? 1920 

Printed in Chicago, U. S. A. 



©CI.A565033 



TO 
G. M. V. DEVI 



AND 



TO 
MY LOVING INSPIRATION 



FOREWORD 

All this is reminiscent! 

Since that twilight many things have come to 
pass. Yes, they have changed even the face of 
the fair earth. But at last the anguish of night's 
deep darkness merges into the dawn's vibrant 
resplendence in the East. 

How different was that adoration in the moon- 
light, from this calm worship in the dawn ! 
To a Brahmin the supreme joy of victory lieth 
in the sacredness of Renunciation. Unforgotten 
— only Enshrined — so be it to the end ! 

And these Songs of the Dawn are no more than 
faint refrains of my unchanted hymns to Thee. 



INTRODUCTION 

It has ever been the wont of those, nurtured 
under Oriental skies, to express their loftiest 
thoughts in verse, leaving to the professional 
story-teller the task of reciting in prose national 
exploits and mundane happenings. This instinct 
of Asia to voice the lispings of her soul in accord 
with the rhythms of the universe has enriched 
mankind with the splendour of the Vedic hymns ; 
with the profound wisdom of the Mahabharata; 
with the astronomical knowledge enshrined in 
the Chaldean epic of Gilgamash; with the en- 
during tone of the Iran Avendi ; with the mov- 
ing drama of Job; with prayers and prophecies 
of Isaiah ; and with the rhapsodies of the Psalms. 

To the Occident belongs a sterner instinct, a 
grimmer gift. As the light of the sun obeys the 
dividing magic of the prism, so the light of 
knowledge may be separated into its component 
parts, whereof the clearer tints enwrap devo- 
tional philosophies while the deeper colours bathe 
the pageantries of this material world. The Oc- 
cident is richer for the stirring pages of the 
Illiad; the entrancing adventures of Odysseus; 
the clash of arms and the sea breezes of the 
Sagas ; the chivalrous teachings of a Roland or a 
Cid. But in the realms of religion we, of the 
Western world, stand mouthing misty prose 
amongst the awed crowds attendant on the dark 
ceremonials of the Druids, the bloody sacrifices 
to Odin, or the gloomy meetings in the cave or 
dell of the early Christians. 

As it hath been it will be. In the convoluted 
conch-shell the Oriental hears the mystic music 
of that eternal Ocean which is the love devine. 
In the dust of labour and the bush aflame the 
Occidental sees the trodden path to God. 



Therefore have we no surprise in finding so 
eminent a savant of India as Sri Jogesh Chand- 
er Misrow, one who is the holder of the Master 
of Arts degree of Stanford and a Doctor of 
Philosophy, expressing in untrammeled and ingen- 
uous verse the true self of their author in these 
SONGS OF THE DAWN. To me it has been 
a great privilege to read these poems in their 
manuscript form, and I have discerned, as I ven- 
ture to think all who must who read with in- 
ward vision, that the obscurity of our mental 
skies is bravely pierced by the author with a 
light of faith in the purposes of life and the 
themes of his poems are suffused with the tints 
of a Divine Dawn. 

It were invidious to select; but poems are like 
eyes, some appeal to us and claim our sepcial at- 
tention, admiration. In the "Star-Babies" occurs 
a motive so charming that in Elizabethan days it 
had been called a pretty conceit; in the "Incar- 
nations" the contrast between the golden sands 
of Egypt, the snows of the Arctic circle and the 
verdant gardens of India are artistically striking; 
in the "Moon Stone", we have a song so ardent 
yet soft that it might fitly borrow the music of 
one of oft sung Indian Love Lyrics, and "Thy 
Temple" resounds with fervent ecstasy. 

It was a favorite saying of the late Sir Edwin 
Arnold that those who think in poesy have clear- 
er eyes than those who think in prose, and in 
wishing bon voyage to these exquisite verses — 
"The Songs of the Dawn" — I would venture to 
echo that phrase of the author of the Light of 
Asia, who loved so well the earnestness and 
depth of the ancient philosophies of India. 
Chicago, U. S. A. Julian B. Arnold. 

October, 1919. 



CONTENTS 

Song of the Dawn 17 

In the Moon and the Dawn 18 

Summer Dawn 19 

Star Babies' Moon Mother 20 

Moonstone 21 

To Bengal 22 

Sea or Python 23 

My City 24 

Shuttle of Fate 25 

Sun -- Crucifix 26 

Incarnations 27 

Why Tonight 28 

Response 29 

Where Tonight 30 

Temptation 31 

Forlorn 32 

New Cross 33 

Coronal 34 

Star-Thieves 35 

Ode to India 36 

Anticipation 37 

Pain 38 

Mystic Sunset 39 

Cathedral 40 

Sri Gautama 41 



Tonight 42 

Bell, Candle and Book 43 

Vesper Song 44 

Thy Temple 45 

Mother 46 

Peret Hirshbein 47 

Ode to the Indian Ocean 48 

The Natal Day 50 

The Taj Mahal 51 

In Nirvana 52 

My Unsung Song 53 



DAWN 

Who shall sing the Song of the Dawn ? 
Not he who kept the glory of the eve 
Away from his temple, 
Barring fast the gates ; 

Nor he who dreamt night-long 

Of numbers and scales in busy mart 

Even though the day was done! 

The crescent canoe on the sky-ocean 

Sailing to the dreamland 

Beckoned in vain to him. 

His parched lips sipped 

The fiery draught, 

Seeking in roar of passion 

That which silence alone can give, 

In worship of soul by soul — 

Vain to him the calm of night. 

But he who mutely, gently, night-long 

Vigiled the flickering wick of hope 

As the storm raged and groaned 

Without — within — 

Will he now rekindle the sacred flame 

With the warmth of his bleeding heart, 

Now that the storm is gone, 

And darkness is no more — 

His is the hour — the day — 

Sings he the Song of the Dawn! 



17 



IN THE MOON AND THE DAWN 

Last eve in the moon 

Under the bower of the star- vines 

I vowed the eternal vow, 

I adored Thee as Love. 

The evening breeze whispered 

The passion-mad plea 

Far and wide — 

Last eve in the moon. 

Todav in this Thy dawn, 

Under the flaming canopy of heaven, 

In the first rays of the rising sun 

Thou art transfigured; 

I worship Thee now, Goddess! 

The morning wind echoes 

My sacred chants 

Far and wide 

Today — in this Thy dawn ! 



18 



SUMMER DAWN 

What musings, what far-off dream — 

Day-dreams — 

Come this dawn of June 

As I softly lay my head 

Upon the cushion of the grassy knoll 

Over the bold hill of Krotona — 

Robed in delicate green garb of summer! 

I am one with Nature 

In Life's inmost sanctury. 

I gaze upon the endless blue billows below 

And the boundless rosy sky above, 

And mine eyes drink deep 

From the fount of thy beauty, 

Amid these wild flowers that blushingly listen 

To the birds' amorous wooing 

And bees' jealous petulant groans. 

What phantoms come and go! 

This dawn, ere the light-flood comes 

To sweep night's languor away, 

Whilst still throb the warmth of thy touches, 

The cadence of thy moans, 

Ere all is lost and forgotten, 

Oh, let me die the deathless death 

In thine own arms ! 

O beauteous bride, sweet Dawn — 

O Infinity of Form! 



19 



STAR-BABIES' MOON-MOTHER 

Mushed is the voice of Night. 
The Moon-mother has led out 
The Star-babies a-playing 
On the blue meadow of the sky. 

How frolicsome and gay! 
They romp, skip and run away, 
Hide-and-seek they play 
Behind the tapestries of clouds, 
And climb the arches of rainbow, 
Then drop upon the earth dew-drops- 
Their joy-tears shed in play. 

Hushed is the voice of Night. 
Where the Earth-children sleep 
While the Moon-mother plays 
With wide-awake Star-babies 
On the blue meadow of the sky, 
Far, far away. 



20 



MOONSTONE 

Deep is the sea — 

From shore to shore, the sight mergeth 

Unto the billowy blue Infinity. 

In its depth lies the gem. 

In its heart of heart, 

Amidst what tumult 

Unseen, invisible it shines 

In the splendor of seven moons ! 

Come ! dive deep without faint or fear ! 

For the lost talisman of immortality 

Is worthy of none but thee. 

Thou blessed Princess of the Moon 

Fear not, though deep is the sea; 

Thy moonstone waits for thee. 



21 



TO BENGAL 

A mountain of dark gray clouds 

Rises against the roseatte sunset, 

My last sunset on thy sacred shores 

O Sweet Bengal — queen of the Indian sea ! 

The sacred blood of our Sires — 

The tears of our mothers and maidens. 

Purest of earth's sweetest blossoms — 

Envy of the Lotus, Juthie and the Bengal Rose 

Came crowding on thy horizon 

Fading fast away . . . 

Not a sob of wind, 

Nor a moan of the Bengal Bay ! 

From the Mangoe and Cocoanut groves 

The Madana. Moyna, Teeah. 

Chirp not their salutations sweet, 

To me and the parting Day. 

Grief-laden and sullen is the earth, 

Sullener still the heart. 

All is mute at this parting . . . 

Then, as the mountain of dark gray clouds 

Rises higher and higher hiding Thee from me. 

Widens the chasm between us, 

Could I but say to Thee, Adieu, Adieu — 

My golden Bengal — queen of the Indian Sea ! 

But silence seals my quivering lips 

"With cold, cold kisses. 

All seems mute at this parting, 

Yet what a symphony of the soul 
Plays this fallacious silence 
On this parting day! 
On the Bengal Bay. 

22 



SEA OR PYTHON? 

What a huge blue blazing python 

This sea! 

Its thousand wave-hoods arched in rage 

Hiss fumes of death-gray foams. 

It writhes, wriggles, dashes and rolls 

In mammoth longitude — 

From sky to sky. 

How in drunken fury, 

It groans and roars, swings and sways 

Its breaker fangs 

Darts to smash the sandy beach — the earth. 

Oh, whose restless spirit 
Is this blue blazing Python, 
Whose impetuosity — 
This sea? 



23 



MY CITY 

Thou art no city, 

Nor mortal haunt or mart, 

But a living panorama of spirit, 

Indomnitable and bold, 

Incarnate in these thy myriad 

Marble towers, spires and domes — 

Heavenward march of Man's inmost urge — 

Sincere, invincible! 

None but a dull dead soul 
May look upon this thy seething whirlpool 
Of haunted humanity 
And remain insensate — unmoved ! 
* * * 

The breath of dreadful hurricane — thy haste 
In thy broad bosom meet and mingle 
The West and East, South and North, 
Heaven and Hell — pole to pole! 
And thou blendest Past and Future. 
Old and New, in one great flood of light. 
Thy ever-living Present rushes on, 
Conquering all, inspiring all — 
Lo ! the citv of faith's eternal flame ! 



24 



SHUTTLE OF FATE 

Weave ye shuttle of Fate, 
Weave on the fabric of life 
A new and abiding pattern, 
For the hour has come 
To alter the "scroll of Xorn." 

Through the silent depth of night, 
And loudly sonorous day-long, 
Weave on silently — the hour cometh ! 
Unaware we waited long, too long. 
You in a lonely castle in Sunset Land 
And I in the wilderness of cities, 
Awaiting these Ides of March. 
We knew not it was so nigh. 
We hatsened not, 
Nor shall we tarry now, 
On the path of the pilgrimage far. 
* * * 

Inscrutable the design 

Thou hast woven with skill, 

O, shuttle of Fate, 

With time and space, 

Two hearts with thirst of ages 

A few flowers of worship, 

Of love and hope, a few kisses 

A whisper, tears of joy and pain, 

And a soul's homage to a soul — 

Awaiting silently in the lonely castle, 

So near, yet, so far, far away. 



25 



THE SUN OR THE CRUCIFIX? 

The sun, a huge crucifix, 
Wallows in an ocean of blood. 
Wave after wave rises and dances 
Upon the far horizon 
In the flaming East. 

Whence this mad rhythm of Nirvana? 
And what is that upon the crimson crucifix? 
In the fast fading myriad shapes and colours 
Transforming this mysterious Cross of majesty, 
I read a symbol vast and true — 

A Soul crucified, and more ! 

* * * 

The scarlet hues of the eastern sky 
Like frozen red dream-waves heave, 
Alas! from whose torn heart? 
Whose tears unshed? 
Whose cry unheard? 



26 



INCARNATIONS 

Only yesternight, 

In the shadow of the Pyramids, 

My own Goddess, Thou and I 

Watching in silence, 

Saw the folly of Pharaoh 

And pride of Cleo of the Nile. 

Thy rose-lips quivering 

In soft sweet whispering — 

And mine? 

Ah, yesternight on the shore of the Nile, 

How brief the short-lived joy ! 

Yesternight — 

It seems but yesternight — 

In a valley of midnight sun 

Between snow-crowned crags of the North 

Again we watched 

The fury of the fjords. 

In strange hush of misty light — 

The same maddening fury — 

But ah, how brief was the short-lived joy. 

Yea, again, 

And yesternight by the moon 
In the Peacock garden on the Ganges shore 
Amid perpetual spring of youth 
At the threshold of Kama's Ivory Temple 
How . . . how we met. 
Yesternight ! 

For it seems but yesternight. 
And tonight . . . 

27 



WHY TONIGHT 

Why from the fount of immortality 

Hast thou filled tonight 

This golden goblet of thine, Beloved? 

Churning of what ocean deep 

Has yielded this new ambrosia of hope? 

To waken what slumbering soul, 

Draught by draught, 

Dances this sparkling primal rhythm 

In sun and moon and stars and man, 

Thrilling with blind uncertain joy. . . . 

But why bringest thou so close 
This golden goblet of thyself, so frail, 
The first vintage of thy youth, 
Nectar of the immaculate lotus-bud 
From thy pool of love infinite — 

To these parched lips of aeons tonight? 

* * * 

Open are the Ivory Gates, 

A joy-mad earth and hell and paradise, 

Death and decay are conquered all ! 

Tonight the soul of soul awakes. 

A thousand suns shall shine, night-long; 

There shall be no space, no time ! 

The divine crown is again 

Upon the brow of Nature's Queen — 

Thou, my Beloved, my Eternity! 



28 



RESPONSE 

Faint, frail, uncertain of itself, 
Leaned back in silence 
In repose of sweet agony 
In the temple of Night. 
The stars and moon above 
Swooned in enchanted sympathy. 

No, no, away! peep not 

Into this lonesome heart's castle. 

Come not so close ! 

Away from this forbidden garden! 

Has it been guarded in vain, 

Awaiting this thy triumphant entry? 

Ah, this fateful night, 

I know not myself. 

Oh, for the awakening of what dead soul 

Bringest thou me thy response? 

This all-conquering animation, 

This world-desire, like an avalanche, 

Swift, blind, and impetuous 

Sweeps all — bold and majestic. 

Tell me, Moon and sweet Star-Maidens 

Through the voice of the South wind, 

Why in my blood this delirium? 

Do you feel with me the same thrills — 

Tonight, in the far-off sky? 

Ah, 'tis then the conspiracy of Fate. 

Come ! be all, and take all 

Of this garden of life. 



29 



WHERE TONIGHT 

Where tonight? 

Wandering in what far-off clime, 
Under what strange stars, 
Watching what deep sea's surging billows- 
Like the restless soul, 
Forsaken 
But unforgotten! 

Oh! Where tonight? 
Can it there hear the call 
Of the shoreless, endless expectancy- 
Can it there see and feel — 
Impatient wooing of the rebellious April breeze 
To spring's adolescent jessamine buds 
So illuding, amorous and shy- 
In the pale desolate moon tonight. . . . 



30 



TEMPTATION 

If step by step, hand in hand, 

Thou hast led me on 

To the Ivory Temple of Dream, 

Now bid me in, Beloved. 

Vain this bashful hesitancy now. 

The rebellious joy, 

Wakened in the bosom, 

Is impatient as captive doves; 

The whole form is a-thrilled 

In throbs of expectancy. 

Surging ocean waves 

Rock and swing in primal rhythm 

Round the temple of living Spirit 

In ecstasy of worship — 

Vain this faltering now. 

On thy rose-petaled eager lips 

Comes the sweet silent call, 

Thine eyes drooping and shy, beckon 

The message of the North Star; 

Bid me in, Beloved, 

Into thy temple of worship, 

Lest the moon mock me from above. 

And the night wind spread idle tales 

Far and wide. 



31 



FORLORN 

How impalpable this emptiness— 
In the stillness of starlight 
Through the spangles of mist 
I see not far, very far— 
I look and look and look in vain 
Where it was. The night-long 
Primal warmth of ecstasy 
Graces my bosom no more. 

The dew-draped dawn 

Smiled at the morning glory ; 

And a stray nightingale 

Sang its far lone refrain. 

The vision smiled and murmured 

And nestled closer, and throbbed 

As the night fled, dishevelled and deflowered, 

The snow-shrouds covered evergreen Earth 

With the widowed mantle of peace . 

Oh Ave Maria of the morning breeze! 



32 



NEW CROSS 

What new cross, wilt thou bid me bear? 
In what sackcloth and ashes repent? 
Of what wild honey and locust-flower 
Wouldst Thou, the New Prophet, partake? 
Through the valley of the shadow of death 
To what Golgotha and Gethsemene 
Will there be the new Dawn 
And the New Faith proclaimed? 
What old temple will burst asunder 
From spire to the base — 
Cataclysm and earthquake — 
The mortal globe wrecked to dust 
By reign of terror and tears. 

* * * 

The cross is growing heavier, 

The crown of thorns pains the brow; 

The lance has pierced the heart; 

Life is ebbing out in precious flow. 

But, Oh, the will — the will — is not done! 

Still unquafled the cup's bitter dregs. 

* * * 

Then adieu, farwell, fair earth ! 

This new cross, ladder of my paradise 

For the unspoken whisper 

I have waited aeons to impart 

Now I avow — 

Yea, though it costs me the cross. . . . 



33 



CORONAL 

Why weep these tears 

In this thine hour of triumph, 

My Fairy Princess, 

Known to me from birth to birth? 

Thou hast oft eluded me, 

Now thy hour cometh once more. 

Why then weepest thou these tears? 

May they not again extinguish 

The flame of abiding faith and love 

On the altar of thy heart's core, 

My Fairy Princess, 

My own Love-Queen? 

For this worship of an hour 
Have I not waited aeons? 
From the star to the star, 
Moon to the moon, near and far 
The long, long quest 
From birth to birth. . . . 
With my love-light and lyrics 
I have brought my heart's throne 
To enthrone thee forever — ever, 
Queen of Love's Universe. . . . 



34 



STAR-THIEVES 

The moonbeams are made 

Of thy laughter, 

Thy breath makes fragrant 

The spring's South Sea breeze. 

Cunning star-thieves steal 

The merry twinkle from thine eyes. 

But tonight I forgive them; 

They remind me of thee. 

I am alone. 

Raven locks and tresses 
Borrowed from thy graces — 
They waken in me thy caresses, 
Tonight, when I am lonely. 



35 



ODE TO INDIA 

Inde, my Inde, how sweet thy memory ! 
Dearest land of sacred lores, 
Shrine-abode of world-faiths — 
Man's hope of hopes ! 

From thy enchanted woodlands 
Come the echoes of bird-minstrels, 
The Syamas' whistles, 
The Papias' songs, 
Koel's cooing long. 
The shy bride-eyed fawn's play, 
In the mossy dales and bowers ; 
Dance of the proud peacock gay; 
The Apsara-fairies gambol 
About sky-kissing Deodars 
Entwined with frail Malati vines. 

The maidens of bronze and golden hue 

With bee-black eyes, coral lips, 

Languorously weave wreathes of Bakula, 

In shades of the Taj by the Lotus-lake; 

And gaze at the dome of frozen tears — 

Token of Love's triumph o'er Death. 

What a Paradise on earth unfolds 

To these exiled eyes. 

Soul's worship to Thee, 

And the heart's holiest homage, 

Stronger than sword's sharpest pledge 

Are thine and thine own, 

Above all the world 

For all the time, 

All the time, O Inde ! 

36 



ANTICIPATION 

This last day of the cycle of the years, 

As we sit by the fire, 

What visions come and fade! 

What signs unfold! 

Gently the earth beneath kisses your lotus feet. 

The world looks fair and fresh and free ; 

Sky so beautiful, so enchantingly blue; 

How glorious is the sun ! 

You have given it your heart's warmth 

To waft to me on ethereal wings. 

The languor of the virgin Eve — beaming 

With her youth's intoxicating moonbeams, 

Is but the image of thine own expectant smile, 

In anticipation — 

Of the dawn of the new Aeon! 



37 



PAIN 

Ah, Fate give me back my pain, 

From the soul of the young and the aged, 

From the heart of the new and the old 

Pour me all the world's pain. 

Vast is my bosom — the void . . . 

Deep as the soundless seas 

In thy boundless abode 

Long have I loved to adore. 

Fate, give me back my pain 

Ever truest unto me 

Unfailing in her trysts 

Clinging closer, closer to my heart. 
♦ * * 

Then come, from those sunset shores 
Within this enchanted bower 
That in Life's scented sanctuary 

1 may woo thee again, Pain ! 

With caresses of love's festive hour . . . 
Pain, world pain, love . . . 
As the rose-bud shiveringly blushes 
At the bees' first tender touches, 
There blends the rhythm of hues 
With melodies of hum and moans. 
So are thine echoes inexplicable 
On my desolate harp of soul. 
Born with the Earth's first-born — 
Whose joy art thou, Pain! 
My all in all, my very own . . . 



38 



MYSTIC SUNSET 

What mysterious signs on the horizon — 

Can this be only a sunset? 

No, no ! who has ever seen such a sky 

As we two see from the niche of thy bower, 

Over forests green towers, 

And snow-clad dales. 

Far, far out, 

The sky is an ocean of soft light, 

As far as we two can see 

And beyond. . . . 

O Thou sacred Land of the Aryans — 
Inde, our asylum of hope, 
Far, far out, across the sea of light, 
We greet Thee with heart and soul— 
Our dreams and hopes. 

O the golden-crowned monarch, 

O the purple-robed king of the sky 

And lord of the virgin dawn, 

Two of thy children, 

Love-lorn and weary 

Look at Thee 

With wistful eyes and eager hearts, 

Seeking a nook to nest young love, 

A refuge from a stolid world, 

From a decaying, death-dealing horde. 

May these mysterious signs then 
Forbode the fulfilment of our dream 
Call us to the holy Ganges shores, 
In joy and glory of freedom! 

39 



CATHEDRAL 

What a towering green-blue dome 

Of foliage overhead 

Kisses the azure sky. 

Corridor of arches dense and deep 

The mammoth boughs outspread, 

Rest on the columns of ivory gray 

Living monoliths tall and straight ! 

Entwining all, climb and cling 

The vines of Kanaka Lata — 

Golden ivies with blushing coral blossoms 

Peep through the veil of purple mist. 

Incense of the flowering spring 

Wafts with the heavy moan 

Of the wooing and the mating doves, 

Languorous in the slumbering shade above. 

Steeped in majestic calm of ages 
Awaits, alas, whose pilgrimage, 
Whose loving worship 
This Cathedral of the Bodhee tree ! 



40 



SRI GAUTAMA 

Enshrined in the temple of space 

Enthroned on Eternity 

Thine gemmed-lotus — the Mahasan 

Heart of Humanity. 

The star-candles, 

The silvery Mirror of the Moon, 

The gong of pealing thunders 

The sonorous tolls of thousand vesper bells 

In the distant roar of the Deep. 

These are but meagre adoration 
Of Thee— 
O blessed Gautama! 
Thy golden chariot 
On million Sun-disks, 
Wheels 'round the Infinity, 
With what a resplendence! 
Thy loving wisdom, joy of growth — ■ 
Unfolds soul of Freedom and Peace — 
Thy song of Nirvana, 
Brings whispers of undying Hope ! 



41 



TONIGHT 

The dreadful Angel 

With dark wings overspread 

Enmeshes the earth from pole to pole. 

The rain, her sobs, 

The snow, her frozen tears, 

The wild winds of the West, her sighs. 

Tonight all is dread, terror and tears. 

Lo, those death-dark wings come nearer now, 

Strangle life, pull heart-strings 

And wildly laugh and mock, 

They crush and crush 

Atom by atom, petal by petal, 

Youth's sweetest dream-rose, 

Hope's choicest bud ! 

How cruel night's dark wings ! 



BELL, CANDLE, AND BOOK 

Bell, Candle and Book, 

A little incense and myrrh — 

No purple crepe 

Nor any black-gowned pale-faced mourner, 

No orgies of tears and sobs and sighs, 

Mocking and insensate, 

When I pass unto Nirvana! 

The bells of the west wind 

Blowing in gale, 

The candles of the midnight stars 

On the salver of the sky, 

And this Thy Book of Fate 

With life's hidden lores unsipped, unexplored, 

A single violet or lotus, 

Sweet flower of fancy 

In the garden of Thine and mine, 

Are all that I ask. 

Sing no songs of sorrow, 
No psaltry of sobs ; 
Toll no other bells, 
Light no other candles, 
Read no other book 
When I flicker out — 
Unto Nirvana! 

No heavy stones on my frail form, 

My cold ,cold ashes. 

Memorial ? 

Only a pearl wreath 

Woven of thy tear-drops 

My last memories 

Mothered in Earth's bosom 

With thy Bell, Candle and Book ! 

43 



THE VESPER SONG 

My Love, O come, and watch with me 
The farewell beams kissing the sea ; 
With bridal veils of evening trails, 
Sweetly entwines each vine and tree. 
In primal chants the gentle lea, 
As love-lorn lights longingly flee, 
Whispers soft in its vesper glee — 
Come, Soul-mate, come ! Heart longs for thee. 
Ah, arm in arm, our hearts beat one : 
Love's coronal though far is won — 
Thus we triumph, though world forsak'n, 
This eve regain our long lost heav'n ! 



44 



THY TEMPLE 

Oh, where shall I build Thee a temple, 
The sky so low, dwarfs its spires, 
The Void small, ah, too small, 
The universe none too wide for a base, 
For thy fitting Temple 
Loving Goddess mine . . . 
How shall I worship Thee — 
All the flowers of all the lands, 
Of every season and hue and scent, 
And the flaming lotus of my soul 
Have I sanctified in offering to Thee, 
Loving Goddess mine. 
And where are my chant and rosary? 
Amid the deep symphony of the Seas 
The wild gale danceth with wilder waves 
Thy vestal virginal dance of my senses . . 
My rosary of the Stars — 
Thunder Heralds on chariot of clouds 
Mingle their trumpet blares, 
With the sweet choristers of the song birds- 
Vesper and Matin of their strains . . . 
The Planets dance in Space 
A timeless, endless, ceaseless dance 
In my own ecstasy. 
Shall Thy Temple be— 
In my Soul's inmost sanctuary? 



45 



MOTHER 

Thine own garland this 

I lay at thy lotus feet, 

Mother mine 

Woven of strange blossoms though, 

Plucked from strange gardens 

Across the seven seas, 

On this pilgrimage from shore to shore 

Away, far away from Thee . . . 

Thine own hymn this, 

I now scribe and chant, 

Mother mine, 

Though in tongues strange, 

Of distant lands and lores, 

Across the seven seas 

On this pilgrimage from shore to shore 

Seeking a Hymnal for Thee . . . 

Thine own worship — 

All my noble thought and deed 

Mother Mine! 

In thy boundless love, 

1 have made the world one with me ! 

May I live and labour and die for Thee : 

Sing the song of Thy freedom — 

Wherever may I be, 

Thine annointed and ordained ! 

Unconquered, unconquerable — 

O. Mother Mine! 



46 



TO PERET HIRSHBEIN 

Thou celestial song-bard! 

Poet-priest of Youth's abiding hope, 

The enduring faith of Ages. 

How the world old dreams, 

Once sleeping in the stars 

And in the eyes of youth. 

Now kiss the light, on the wings 

Of thy colors and shades and words. 

Glory, joy, mirth, love, 

Weave pearl wreaths of morning dew. 

Fancy with her amorous arms 

And vibrant ruby lips sips 

Nectar from life's first feast 

Of Passion sublime ! 



47 



ODE TO THE INDIAN OCEAN 

Ocean, Indian Ocean, my own ocean! 
Last eve did I hear in thee, 
The uproar — tumult of a soul ; 
A voice that shivered to the suns, 
And the moons and the stars, 
And to all the worlds unseen! 

Came there life's first ecstasy — 
The rebellious adolescence, 
Amid the rapturous song of thy tides. 
In the dance of thy impatient waves, 
Came to the eyes a vision sublime, 
Playing with the heart's impetuous flames. 
In what a holocaust of raging passion, 
The whole universe was aflame — 
Last eve as I gazed upon thee ! 

But this dawn — 

As thou reclinest on the divan 

Of the ivory shores of Jagannath, 

So langourous, pale and wan, 

What a gentle melody comes in thy moans ! 

What loving caresses — 

In thy million arms. Now calm — 

All is calm, without — within ! 

The incense-kissed breeze of the dawn 
Plays with thy golden locks; 
Scatters them to the four-winds. 
Then weaves them into garlands. 
Of new planets and globes ! 



48 



The call of the Puri Matin-bells 
Mingles with the melody of thy echoes, 
Summon all to the Temple of Silence- 
A hush . . . 

Thou ecstasy of triumphant hopes 
Ocean, Indian ocean, My ocean ! 
My very own . . . 



49 



NATAL DAY 

To-day is the day of days 
Thy natal day, my love 
And loves crowning day ! 
What shall I offer thee, 
Princess mine, my love-goddess 
With what shall I worship thee — 
On this day of day — thy natal day? 

The ruby-red roses, 

Of my ocean deep passion — 

Have I not offered thee 

Long, long ago? And did not you 

Crush them to thy bosom — 

In ecstasy of response? 

My silver-white rosary, 

I brought to thee, 

My calm dreams; 

Thine also the incense 

Of my soul's resplendent gleam ; 

Thine the golden lotus 

W r ith the thousand petals — 

My lyrics of the Dawn — 

For thee — all for thee. 

On this day of day, and evermore! 

Ah, what else have I, but thyself? 



50 



THE TAJ MAHAL 

The Taj now like a huge white swan 
Floats on the ocean of moon beams, 
As the world round vanishes 
Into the opalesque ethereal mists 
Of this autumn full moon night. 

There is naught but the pale pangs 

Silhoueted in an earthly form 

In this silent shrine of sorrow 

This Palace of Pain. 

This lyric in stone chaste and enduring 

O what a refrain brings from the Past — 

They that build shrines to the vain gods, 

Or fearsome ghosts, cruel phantoms, 

Or the unseen hosts of the skies, 

May scoff at thee, pass thee by, unheeding; 

But O marble mausoleum, every atom of thee, 

Is but frozen anguish and ecstasy of love. 

Art thou not a living throbbing loving Token. 

Of all that Man feels and forfeits, 

At the Altar of the One lost yet adored 

In this pilgrimage of Life to Death! 

Symbol of a soul's enduring bliss, art thou, 

O TAJ — O noble Temple of Tears! 



51 



IN NIRVANA 

Xo, Thou art gone ; but not dead ! 
Thou can'st not die, O spirit invincible ! 
Invisible though now, Beloved, 
Thou art nearest to me than ever before, 
Dwelling in my own temple of thought ! 

The Champa, Shefali and Jui yet bloom. 
At rise and set of the Sun and the Moon ; 
The birds sing and the bees hum ; 
Murmuring flows the Ganges streams. 
Do they not bring the far off echoes of thy voice? 
When all is here ; all who adored thee, — 
What if atom to atom did fly? 
The dust unto the dusty earth — 
To the tempest impetuous, thy breath ; 
To the clouds the water and tears ; 
Elements play of hide and seek — 
On the lap of adoring Nature, all this ! 

But thy spirit? 
So gentle and sweet and loving — 
Closest of all my kins on this globe. 
By the tie of flesh and blood, 
Faith and hope and more ! 
Lo, this incense upward climbing. 
Vault by vault, star by star. 
To the seven heavens and the beyond. 
Like pilgrimage of thy soul of soul! 

Shall I weep and sob and sigh 
For thee, O child of Immortality? 
When through the Gates of Death 
Into the Shrine of Infinity of Bliss 
Attainest thou thy quest — thy Mukti. 
( ) child of Brahman, so sweet and free ! 
For thee now is the Repose, 
In the glory of the Nirvana! 

52 



UNSONG SONG 

The unsung song wails, 
Wails for the lost chord 
From the gray depths of ocean 
To the tower of the stars — 
All is wailing, 
Wailing. 

Day-long, night-long, 

Vault to vault, 

Echoing in eternal throbs, 

Danceth in color and sound, 

In aeons of autumn, summer and spring 

My own unsung song. 

The whisperings of my soul — 

I hear in chirping birds ! 

The wail of the west wind, 

Thunder of the cloud-sprite, 

Incessant calling of the sea, 

And the dreamy hum of the honey-bees 

Bring but a faint refrain 

Through the infinite rhythm 

Of my own unsung song! 



53 



THE WORKS OF DR. J. C. M1SROW , M. A., Ph. D. 

Usha Songita, {Songs of the Dawn) $1. 25 
Other Books by Dr. J. C. Misrow, M. A., Ph. D. 

Soul-Quest 50c 

Man trams sacred verses for Life's efficient action, 
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Their appeal is universal; their tone sublime 
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It is indispensable to all students of self-devel- 
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India's contribution to the newer English poetry. 
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Outcastes—Soul of the Sudra $1. 25. 

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A Drama in three acts. Powerful, and full of 
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55 



glee of outcasts, as only a great artist with keen 
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To Be Had at 

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And at All Important Bookstores and Publishers 
in Great Britain and America 



56 



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